viernes, 24 de agosto de 2012

APRENDIENDO A COMPARTIR

POESIA PERSA, HUMOR Y ALGO MÁS

  1. Faça valer a pena.
Foto



    Foto

  1. LEE ESTE PODEROSO TESTIMONIO... COMPARTELO www.beliefnet.com/Espanol/El-narcotrafico-quiso-matarme.aspx
 


Minding the word-count!

This is a sophisticated Shamlou poem. I believe not easily intelligible for Persian Readers. Especially if it is not regarded in a holistic way, but broken down to its part.
I tried to translate it using about t...
  1. he same number of words. The outcome is below, while:

    (i) In my opinion, it is at least as clear as its original version;
    (ii) No image is missed, replaced or displaced;
    (iii) No expansion, or non-trivial paraphrasing;
    (iv) The word-count gives:

    Number of words in Persian: 109
    And adjusting for prepositions: + 120
    (See the Note below)
    Number of words in English: 123
    -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

    Ahmad Shamlou: (The Raven, 1975)

    I am thinking of that raven, still!
    The one crossing the ravines of Yush*
    and their golden, sun-burnt fields-
    of wheat.

    And the scalpel of its wings,
    cropped out of the pastel-faced,
    paper-made curtain- of the sky,
    an arch-bridge, leaning to the side.

    Then, the blunt edge of its dried gorge,
    addressed the aged mountain beside.

    And his words,
    still echo in the rock-strong wits
    of the bored mounts around-
    ever since mystified.

    ***&***

    And I still mystified, I wonder the event
    what could a raven say to an old mount,
    albeit stating so sober, sombre, so loud,
    the mere end of touring the poplars-

    That the worn-out, dazed-
    pilgrims of all sunny mid-days,
    chant it again and again, mystified.
    Still, Always Mystified.


    Translation: Maryam Dilmaghani, August 2012, Halifax.
    -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

    Note:
    A number of prepositions in Persian are just a Short Vowel at the end of the words, hence they are not written.
    So while preposition like ‘of’ are counted as a word, the Persian equivalent is not written but pronounced (since no short vowel is written). Adjusting to this, the Persian word-count gets to more than 120 words of the English translation.

    PS. Yush: It is a small town in Mazandaran province of Iran. See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yush,_Mazandaran

    PPS. Picture by Nicoletta Ceccoli:
    http://www.nicolettaceccoli.com/
    -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

    In Persian:

    هنوز در فکر آن کلاغم

    هنوز در فکرِ آن کلاغ‌ام در دره‌هایِ يوش
    با قيچی‌یِ سياه‌اش
    ...بر زردی‌یِ برشته‌یِ گندم‌زار
    با خِش‌خشی مضاعف
    از آسمانِ کاغذی‌یِ مات
    قوسی بريد کج،

    و رو به کوهِ نزديک
    با غار غارِ خشکِ گلوی‌اش
    چيزی گفت
    که کوه‌ها
    بی‌حوصله
    در زِلِّ آفتاب
    تا ديرگاهی آن را
    با حيرت
    در کلّه‌هایِ سنگی‌شان
    تکرارمی‌کردند.

    ***&***


    گاهی سوآل‌می‌کنم از خود که
    يک کلاغ
    با آن حضورِ قاطعِ بی‌تخفيف
    وقتی
    صلاتِ ظهر
    با رنگِ سوگوارِ مُصِرّش
    بر زردی‌یِ برشته‌یِ گندم‌زاری بال‌می‌کشد
    تا از فرازِ چند سپيدار بگذرد،

    با آن خروش و خشم
    چه دارد بگويد
    با کوه‌هایِ پير
    کاين عابدانِ خسته‌یِ خواب‌آلود
    در نيم‌روزِ تابستانی
    تا ديرگاهی آن را با هم
    تکرار کنند؟
    -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-


    Google translates:

    I think it's still in the valleys Klagham Yoosh
    With scissors Syahash
    Yellowing of wheat toast ...
    More static double the

    Matt Kaghzyy the sky
    Arched go awry,

    And the mountains near

    The dried croaker Glvyash
    What he said
    The mountains
    Pester
    Staring at the sun
    It's late
    With astonishment
    In Klhhay Sngyshan
    Tkrarmykrdnd.

    ***& ***

    Sometimes Svalmyknm of the
    A Crow
    With its strong presence Bytkhfyf
    When
    Salat pm
    The color of mourning Msrsh
    Yellowing of wheat toast Balmykshd
    Ypes of multiple passes over,

    With the surge of anger
    What to say

    The Old Mountains
    Abed Universe tired sleepy
    In the summer noon
    Late it together
    To repeat?
    -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-


    Some additional Comments:

    he original poem is not the most clear poem for Persian readers to "understand", yet it can "simulate a uniform emotion" in the readers. I did not try to make sure "the feeling” it is not lost-in-translation, I focused on the word-count. And I see it is less preserved than the level I usually reach.
    Maybe it is possible to make such translation in 120 words but it will surely take much longer time than doing the same (letting the translation carry the feeling) without being constrained by the word count, using some additions and filling the blanks.


    As I have said before I set my priority to have the translation preserve ability of the original poem in simulating the emotions and generate the same emotion, also to transport the same thoughts.

    There are in contemporary Persian poetry, the poems that are like abstract song-lyrics, primarily about “simulating the emotion” through disparate images; but with Shamlou poems, it is usually not the case. His poems it is about both the emotion and also an expression of an intelligible thought for the readers to understand. The latter feature makes it hard to totally drop compensating for the subtleties (cultural or else) that indicate / imply the thought.

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    Sohrab Sepehri (From Footsteps of Water, 1965)

    I turned my head and looked back
    The landscape stood still, like a windmill–
    fastened to the rocks, forsaken by the breeze.
    ...

    1. And I saw the birds, also the rivers singing no more,
      in front of the pallid curtains of all the windows.
      were fallen asleep, the pines and the willows.
      with a thin veil made of sand and dust–
      keeping vigil, standing guard.

      I looked back at the memory of the stormy seas,
      to hear from the bolt-hole of the dried shells,
      the waters are calling your steps.

      ***&***

      I shall now walk at once–
      to the spot, where the sky lands down,
      to where my feet touch the pleading hands–
      of the waves.

      And there,
      I will trade the mass of the sands,
      my feet gathered along the way-
      with the freshness of the rain–
      of the blues of the sun.

      And there,
      I will pick a fistful of beads from the earth–
      to grasp the grey weight of the pearl, the present.


      Translation: Maryam Dilmaghani, April 2008, Montréal.
      PS. Picture is Metaphorical Journey by Vladimir Kush: http://metaphoricalvoyage.com/

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    jajajajajaj
     
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